


Of Love and Conflict

by CrimsonChocolate



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Bisexuality, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mentioned/Implied Markus/Simon/North, Multi, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-10 00:44:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15279843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonChocolate/pseuds/CrimsonChocolate
Summary: As the softly falling snow seeps into their clothes, and camouflages seconds old footsteps, Hank embraces Connor for the first time._Or, the story of how Hank and Connor struggle with their developing feelings towards one another.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is going to be my first multichapter fic for Detroit: Become Human, and trust me, it's going to be one hell of a ride! I hope you enjoy! Comments are always appreciated; I love you all <3

As the softly falling snow seeps into their clothes, and camouflages seconds old footsteps, Hank embraces Connor for the first time.

Connor's head rests upon Hank's shoulder, the older man's hand stroking Connor's hair absently. It feels far silkier than his own, easily slips through his fingers. _Intimate_.

Strong arms snake around Hank's middle, pressing their clothed bodies together snugly, and Hank finds himself never wanting to let go of the android. And he isn't just any android; he is his _partner_ , his _friend_.

Eventually, they part, Hank's breaths visible in the winter air.

"It's good to see you, Lieutenant," Connor greets, smiling a little.

With those words, Hank grins in return.

"Yeah," he breathes, "you too."

They stand in companionable silence, and Hank can't help but take Connor in. Small snowflakes grace the android's eyelashes, and melt upon contact with his skin. _Beautiful_ , Hank thinks, unable to break his gaze.

"You're cold," Connor states, moving closer.

Hank blinks. Come to think of it, he is shivering a little bit, but it's nothing he can't handle. "I'm fine-" he starts, but then his hands are enveloped in warmth, and his protests are forgotten. Connor's hands are holding his, and suddenly, nothing else matters.

Hank's heart flutters.

 

_

 

As the chaos in Detroit dies down, Connor begins to spend more time with Hank outside of work. He joins him on walks with Sumo, they have lunch together at various fast food joints, and he even drops by Hank's house, just because he enjoys his company. Or at least, he seems to.

Over time, Connor becomes Hank's closest friend, and despite Hank having acted like an asshole in the beginning, the android persevered when a lot of people wouldn't have. Even though Hank will never admit to it, he is grateful; after all, he isn't alone anymore.

They sit on a park bench, winter sun peeking through the clouds, when Hank asks Connor a question that is eating away at him.

"Where have you been living?"

Connor turns to look at him. The android has since taken to wearing ordinary clothing; button up shirts, fitted jeans, and a black leather jacket that Hank's taken a liking to. It's nice to see him wear something other than his default uniform, which he's switched for a slacks, shirt and tie combo when working.

"I've been staying with Markus, Simon, and North. They're very accommodating, but I can't help but feel-"

"Like a gooseberry?" Hank finishes with a raised eyebrow.

Confused, Connor openly stares at Hank. "A fruit?"

The older man chuckles softly. "Nah, I mean that you must feel like you're barging in on this three way thing they've got going on."

Connor’s LED briefly flickers yellow, before it returns to its typical cool blue.

"Ah, I see. I suppose I do."

They spend their time observing passersby until Hank speaks up, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously.

"You could crash at mine for a little while, at least until you've gotten your own place."

Connor's eyes light up. "Really, Lieutenant?"

Hank waves his hand flippantly. "How many times have I gotta tell you to call me Hank? But yeah, if you don't mind living with an old man and his mutt."

Connor smiles. "I would love to."

 

_

 

Soon after he moves in, Connor settles into Hank's home like he's always belonged there. Hank can no longer imagine not waking up to the smell of cooked breakfast, always somehow making its way to his bedroom.

Padding to the kitchen, Hank yawns. He stoops down for a moment to ruffle Sumo's fur as he enters, dog bowl already full to the brim with wet food.

"Good morning," Connor greets, wearing a pristine, white cooking apron. "I have made you pancakes."

"Mornin'," Hank mumbles, still not fully awake, "Need coffee."

Hank sits down at the dining table, and lays eyes upon the fresh cup of coffee that is waiting for him. Picking it up, and gently blowing the surface of the liquid, he takes a sip; the temperature is just right.

"Did you sleep well?" asks Connor, who is in the middle of flipping a pancake.

"Sort of," Hank replies, putting down his cup.

"Fuck, those smell good."

Connor adds the last pancake to the small stack on a pre-warmed plate, then tops them with berries and syrup. He places them in front of Hank, who immediately digs in.

Looking on fondly, Connor soon catches Hank's eye, but instead of calling the android out like he normally does, the older man's cheeks warm, gaze snapping back to his breakfast.

 

_

 

"Fuck!" Hank curses loudly, stopping to catch his breath. Connor runs back over to him.

"I'm sorry Lieutenant, I lost sight of him."

"Damn it, we've been after this fucker for weeks."

Teeth clenching in frustration, Hank drags a hand through his hair.

"I'm disappointed, too, but I've managed to build a full facial profile of him. We'll get him next time."

It is late evening by the time they return to Hank's car. The older man is tired, but highly strung, hands gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white. Maybe he ought to hand in his badge, leave his position open for someone younger and fitter? Maybe he's getting too old to chase after bad guys...

"Hank," Connor calls softly.

At the sound of his name, Hank is back inside the car, rain pitter pattering against the windshield. Then, his attention is drawn to Connor's hand, which moves to cover one of his own, thumb brushing the skin of his tense knuckles, back and forth, _back and forth-_

"We will catch him next time, I promise."

 _We_.

Hank turns to face Connor, eyes wide, then glances at their hands. _Warm_. He doesn't make any move to pull away, relaxing under Connor's touch.

"Yeah," he says gruffly. "Let's go."

 

_

 

That very same night, Hank struggles to sleep. A series of tosses and turns fill the past hour, relentless, and the older man grows annoyed. With a deep sigh, he turns on to his back.

Hank has been trying not to think about it, but it's no use. He and Connor have grown closer over the past couple of months, close enough to trigger feelings in Hank that he previously thought he'd never experience again. He hasn't felt like this since his ex-wife.

Connor is _important_ to him, and the last thing Hank wants to do is to fuck up their friendship. But those lingering touches and shared glances make Hank want to fool himself into believing he has a _chance_ , that Connor actually _wants_ him.

God damn it, Hank _wants_ Connor.

He releases a groan into the quiet of his bedroom, dragging a hand down his face.

 _You're nothing more than a dirty old man_ , Hank tells himself. He can't possibly take advantage of Connor, who has such limited life experience, not when the android deserves so much better... and yet, Hank is finding it more and more difficult to keep a lid on his emotions.

Surely, Connor will soon notice the itch Hank is trying so hard not to scratch? _Paranoia_ , he thinks. But tonight, Hank can feel his self-control slipping from his grasp the more he thinks of Connor, who is currently in sleep mode on Hank's couch.

 _Fuck it_.

The older man fumbles around blindly inside the drawer of his nightstand, until he retrieves a small bottle. Propping himself up against the pillows, Hank flicks open the cap with his thumb, and pours some of the cold lube into his palm.

Tossing the bottle somewhere on the bed, Hank uses his uncoated hand to pull down his boxers, exposing his semi-hard cock to the air. Gripping it firmly with the other, Hank shudders at the cool, wet sensation of lube dripping down his shaft. Then, he begins to stroke.

He envisions Connor pumping his dick instead, movements inexperienced but purposeful, and Hank moans, muffling it with his free hand. Connor would be so eager, so willing to please Hank.

The older man quickens his strokes, his exhales becoming increasingly laboured as he creeps closer to his peak. God, Connor's hands are always so fucking _warm_ ; Hank can't help but imagine how good it would feel to have one wrapped around his cock. He's never wanted anyone, _anything_ , so desperately in his entire life.

" _Connor_..." Hank breathes. He wants to be inside Connor, wants nothing more than to fuck him into the mattress...

That is when Hank comes, to the image of Connor, flushed beneath him and calling his name.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided on an update schedule, and if things go according to plan, I should be posting a new chapter every Monday and Friday!

For the next couple of days, Hank's chest feels heavy, weighed down with guilt. He can't even so much as look at Connor without remembering his selfish act. 

Now, their brief moments of intimacy are abruptly cut short; whenever Connor touches him, Hank pulls away as though he's been shocked. Connor always looks hurt afterwards, and Hank hates himself for it. _It's better this way,_ he tells himself; Connor isn't supposed to act like this with an old cop past his prime, he'll learn that soon enough. One day, the android will meet more people, maybe get himself a boyfriend or girlfriend, fall in love…

Hank's eyes begin to sting. Why does that bother him so damn much? He's a fifty three year old man working in homicide, not some lovestruck teenager.

Connor is gorgeous, intelligent, and way out of Hank's league, and no amount of pathetic pining will change that. There's no point in wishing things could be different.

Yet, as Hank reaches the bottom of his sixth glass of whiskey, he thinks that maybe, he's struggling to come to terms with that fact. He flags down a bartender for a seventh.

Since he jerked off to Connor that night, the itch has only become stronger, and Hank needed someone to scratch it for him now that he'd allowed himself a glimpse of the forbidden fruit.

Glancing around the bar, Hank fixes his gaze upon a potential fuck buddy. Male, brown hair, thirties. Human. He'll do, Hank thinks.

A few coy glances and smiles later, the man approaches.

“Hey,” he says, eyes glinting under the dim lighting. _Hazel_ , Hank notes, not the chocolate brown he'd grown to love. He swallows.

“Hank,” he says gruffly, holding out his hand. The other man shakes it.

“Matt.”

Hank downs his drink. “How about we get out of here, Matt?”

“Never thought you’d ask,” Matt winks, leading Hank outside by the hand.

 

_

  
  


They stumble out of the taxi when they arrive at Hank’s; Connor stayed behind at the station to do overtime, so the house is silent as they enter, save for the sounds their lips make as they move against each other.

Hank pulls away, and Matt follows him to the bedroom, where the older man pushes him on to the bed.

Once they rip each others clothes off, it's quick and it's dirty. Hank thrusts roughly into the man he met only half an hour ago, who has his back to him, hips in the air. Doggy style. It's less romantic this way, emphasises the lack of strings, and in Hank's head, it's Connor he's fucking into, Connor who's moaning wantonly beneath him. With a particularly deep thrust, he finishes, Matt following soon after. They collapse beside one another, panting and drenched in sweat, once Hank pulls out,

It hasn't even been five minutes when Hank feels his stomach churn with regret.

Matt rolls over to face him, oblivious to the shift in the atmosphere.

“Fancy round two?”

“... get outta here.”

The younger man blinks. “What?”

“I said, get outta here!” Hank growls, sitting up as Matt scrambles to dress himself, and run out the door. But not before hissing, “Crazy old bastard,” over his hastily clothed shoulder.

The front door slams, and Hank feels like he's going to hurl. Barely making it to the bathroom in time, he clutches at the sides of the toilet bowl, and throws up the contents of his stomach.

 

_

  
  


It is exactly 11:17pm when Connor returns home, and realises that something is wrong. The front door wasn't locked, and the house was pitch black. 

“Hank?” Connor calls, stepping into the din, only to be met with silence.

He searches the living room and kitchen, but aside from finding Sumo snoring softly next to his water bowl, no one’s there.

So the hallway is where Connor heads next, and as he peeks in the bathroom, he registers a dark shape in his peripheral vision, and immediately stops. Hank is collapsed on the tiles, door ajar.

“Hank!”

Connor rushes in there, quickly switching on the light, He leans over Hank and scans him. Unconscious. Another alcohol induced coma. He sighs sadly.

Opting for the approach he used back then, Connor slaps Hank's cheek. Hank blearily opens his eyes.

“Connor?” he slurs, somewhat surprised.

The android hauls Hank to his feet. “Let's get you to bed.”

The older man must have registered the disappointment on Connor's face, because his features turn sheepish. “Sorry, Connor.”

Slightly taken aback, Connor stares at him.

“It's okay,” Connor forces out, resuming his mission to get Hank to his room. 

Laying him down gently, Connor is about to leave him to sleep when Hank catches his sleeve.

“Sorry, I'm a piece of shit.”

Connor furrows his brow. “You're not.”

As Connor exits the room, he swears he hears the older man whisper something else: _“You don't know the half of it.”_

Those words haunt Connor's thoughts for the entire night.

 

_

 

The next day, Hank wakes up to a throbbing headache and an unpleasant taste in his mouth. He notices that a glass of water and two painkillers have been left on his nightstand. Grabbing them, he gulps them down, mentally thanking Connor for putting them there. 

Dragging himself out of bed, Hank goes into the bathroom, the chill of the tiles beneath his feet making him shiver. He quickly brushes his teeth, and heads into the living room.

Connor is nowhere to be found. However, Hank realises upon entering the kitchen that he must have taken Sumo for a walk.

So Hank decides to take it easy and switches the television on to a rerun of some show that ended ten years ago. His mind, however, is somewhere else. He cringes as he recalls the events of last night; he hasn't had a one night stand in years, plus he'd left Connor to deal with his drunken ass again. _I'm a fucking mess,_ Hank thinks, sighing.

Then, the sound of the front door, followed by the padding of paws and soft footfalls, and Hank braces himself like a child about to get a scolding. Instead, Connor simply removes his jacket, shoes, and Sumo's lead from its collar, and sits next to Hank.

“Good afternoon,” Connor says.

“Afternoon,” replies Hank, scratching the back of his neck.

They watch the television for a bit, until Connor gently nudges Hank's arm with his elbow. “You know, if there's anything bothering you, Hank, you can tell me.”

Hank immediately stiffens. Their eyes meet, and Hank is surprised by how Connor is looking at him. _Concern_.

“When you're ready, I'll be here,” and with that, the android goes into the kitchen. Hank glances at the clock on the wall; it's time for dinner.

Sinking back into the couch, Hank releases a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding.

  
  


_

  
  


Fast forward a week, and Hank still hasn't admitted anything to Connor. Instead, he finds himself falling deeper into the bleak pit called misery, losing himself in the bottom of a bottle, more often than not. Tonight is one of those times.

Guilt attacks Hank's insides everytime Connor catches him drinking, but since he’s still going into the station and doing his job, there's nothing Connor can do to stop him. Even if Connor's sad puppy eyes make him feel like shit.

But alcohol numbs the pain in his heart, had been there when Cole died. An old friend that Hank couldn't help going back to. It’s how he's always dealt with things, he’d been a fool to think he could live without it.

However,  Hank had briefly believed that Connor's presence in his life was making him a better person. But unfortunately, he's human, and with humanity comes feelings, which fuck everything up. Hank doesn't want to lose Connor, and yet, he's pushing him away.

Connor deserves better.

 _Better than you_ , the voice in his head hisses.

Hank slams the now empty beer bottle next to the other three on the dining table. Sumo lifts his head at the noise, then lowers it again, falling back into slumber.

It’s too quiet. Connor is working overtime again, has taken to doing it more often.

“He’ll surpass me someday,” Hank muses out loud. Sooner or later, Connor will leave him behind, get his own place, have his own life.

Suddenly, Hank doesn't want to be alone anymore.

A few minutes later, he takes a taxi to the nearest bar, hoping to leave his pain behind.


	3. Chapter 3

Absently looking through case files at his desk, Connor's mind is elsewhere. He tries to concentrate on the task at hand, but the constant stream of thoughts revolving around Hank are making that impossible.

There's a reason behind why Connor has been working overtime at the Detroit Police Department. He just can't bear to watch Hank destroy himself. Connor feels _powerless_ , wants nothing more than to help the older man, but as long as Hank refuses to confide in him, there's nothing Connor can do to stop his downward spiral.

Connor sighs, forlorn; he may as well just go home. At least then, he'll be able to make sure Hank doesn't drink himself into another coma.

However, Hank isn't there when Connor gets back. He heads out again, determined to bring Hank home, unwilling to allow this to carry on.

  
  


_

  
  


Connor finds Hank at the third bar. Tension leaving his body, the android begins to make his way over. But before Connor can approach him, he notices that Hank has company; a female android. Connor watches them, intrigued. They're acting friendly. Overly friendly. Then, Hank pulls her close, and kisses her. Something in Connor's chest twists, and before Hank can spot him, he's walking out of the bar, mission forgotten.

  
  


_

  
  


Connor is sitting on the couch, living room pitch black, save for the faint yellow glow of his LED, processing what he saw at the bar. Why he left without Hank, why he reacted so negatively-

He's so lost in his thoughts that he only notices Hank's presence when the living room is filled with light. Hank jolts when he sees Connor.

“ _Jesus Christ_ , Connor! You scared the shit outta me!”

“Sorry,” replies Connor, looking up. Hank is by himself, much to his relief

“It's fine,” Hank sighs, “Why were you just sitting there in the dark anyway?”

The android blinks. “I was installing the latest software updates,” he lies.

Hank raises an eyebrow, but doesn't push it further. He bids Connor goodnight, and closes his bedroom door behind him.

Connor relaxes back into the couch. For some reason, he doesn't want Hank to know that he saw anything; witnessing Hank kiss someone else triggered feelings in him that he's unable to make sense of, and he doesn't wish to share them until he has. Plus, Connor doubts Hank would have appreciated his intention to drag him back home.

Connor closes his eyes, frustrated. He doesn't want to think anymore. Situating himself so that he's lying on his back, Connor enables sleep mode.

  
  


_

  
  


They're both called out the next evening; the criminal they'd been after a couple of weeks back had been spotted near downtown Detroit. Connor and Hank are quick on his trail, and after they finally catch him, handcuff his hands behind his back, and take him to the station, they walk back to Hank's car. 

“You did good, Connor,” Hank says, patting the android on the shoulder briefly.

“No,” Connor replies softly, “ _We_ did.”

Once they get into the vehicle, Connor notices how much lighter the mood is than last time. They're both smiling as Hank starts the engine, heavy metal bringing the car to life.

  
  


_

  
  


They get in, shrugging off their jackets and shoes, then settle down on the couch to watch one of Hank's old movies. Connor enjoys these nights; he likes Hank’s chuckle when he sees Connor react to a particularly shocking twist, and when Hank's eyes light up at one of his favourite scenes. In all honesty, Connor ends up watching Hank more than the actual movie, but that's okay. He's always found Hank more interesting, anyway.

Then, Connor notices just how close they are; as the movie had progressed, so had their proximity, arms touching. For some reason, he feels… warm. He finds himself aching for more contact. So, without thinking, Connor lays his head on Hank's shoulder.

Hank freezes.

Connor immediately sits up, but before he can apologise, Hank moves further towards his side of the couch, and mutters something under his breath that Connor has to adjust his audio sensitivity to hear:

_“You can't just pull shit like that, Connor.”_

Hank isn't looking at him. The warmth Connor felt is now gone, replaced with something cold. The urge to leave the house overwhelms him.

“I'm taking Sumo for a walk,” he says, a slight tremor in his voice. He stands up and goes to fetch the dog lead.

“But you already walked him this morni-”

The door shuts behind Connor and Sumo as they go outside, and Connor can't help but glance back for a moment through the front window. He sees Hank, head in his hands.

Suddenly, he feels as though Hank and him are worlds apart, like they were when Connor was first assigned to him.

Connor walks away, a painful sadness spreading through his chest.

  
  


_

  
  


The following weekend, Connor decides to pay Elijah Kamski a visit. Reaching the doorstep, Connor presses the doorbell, and waits.

Like last time, Chloe answers the door with a polite smile; Connor shivers as he recalls having put a gun to her head the last time he saw her.

“I'm here to see Elijah Kamski.”

She welcomes Connor inside the mansion, and closes the door behind them.

“Elijah has been expecting you,” Chloe says, “Wait here.”

Before Connor can question her, she goes into another room. Connor starts to fidget with his coin, unable to relax.

He stashes it away in his pocket upon Chloe’s return; she takes him through to a spacious, modern style living room with monochrome decor. Kamski is seated on one of the white sofas, This time, he's dressed in casual attire; a t-shirt, jeans, and hoodie.

Kamski smiles at Connor as he enters, placing his red wine down on the glass coffee table.

“Connor,” he greets, motioning to the sofa opposite from him, “take a seat.”

Connor hovers awkwardly before sitting down. “You were expecting me?”

Kamski chuckles quietly. “Of course. As an android who has become deviant, you have questions. And what better way to do that than to ask your creator face to face?”

Connor fiddles with the coin in his pocket. “You're correct,” he says reluctantly.

Interested, Kamski leans forward. “Tell me, what would you like to know?”

Connor couldn't turn back now.

“I… have questions regarding my feelings towards Lieutenant Anderson,” he admits, feeling the thirium rush to his cheeks.

Kamski's eyes glint. “I see.”

Fingers curling around his coin, Connor continues. “A few days ago, I saw him kissing an android. I… didn't want to see it, so I just left.”

“You were experiencing an emotion. Jealousy,” Kamski says, sipping his wine, “However, who were you jealous of?”

For a few seconds, Connor hesitates, LED spinning yellow, before returning to cool blue. “The android,” he says quietly.

The man studies Connor, almost as if he's taking him apart. The android squeezes his coin self-consciously.

“You want to be close to him,” Kamski states. Connor nods.

“Then, I can only come to one conclusion; you're in love with him.”

For nearly a minute, Connor doesn't immediately register what Kamski said. He sits in silence, while the man opposite considers him thoughtfully. Then, it _clicks_ , and Connor’s eyes widen.

“Love?” he asks in disbelief, “That’s impossible!”

Kamski shoots him an amused smirk. “ _Is_ it?”

Connor falls silent, unable to provide an answer.

“An android, falling for a human; not an impossibility, but practically unheard of.”

Kamski stands up, walks around the coffee table, and stands in front of Connor. He leans down to meet Connor's unwavering gaze, face close.

Then, a hand caresses Connor's cheek, and if Connor could breathe, he’s sure he would have stopped doing so.

“What will you do?” Kamski asks, eyes searching Connor's, as if the answer he's looking for resides there.

“I… I don't know,” Connor says, voice uncertain, “but I'd better go.”

Kamski removes his hand, and steps back.

“Very well,” Kamski smiles, “Chloe will escort you out.”

  
  


_

  
  
  


During the journey home, Connor is unable to stop replaying Kamski's words.

_“You're in love with him,”_

He analyses them over and over. Love; a human emotion. One he'd never known himself, prior to his deviancy. He cares about Hank more than anything else, that much he does know; is that what being in love _feels_ like?

_“What will you do?”_

Connor recalls Kamski's thumb brushing his cheek, how _close_ he had been, how _pleasant_ it had felt; a stark contrast to the distance between him and Hank. He finds himself yearning for Hank, for Hank to allow that type of intimacy between them… he’s getting sidetracked.

What will he do? Connor wishes he knew.

  
  


_

  
  
  


Connor returns home late evening. He pays for his taxi ride, steps out, and notices that the front door is unlocked. Again. Alarm bells ring in Connor's mind. He rushes inside, and heads straight for the bathroom.

“Hank?” he throws open the door, expecting to find the older man unconscious again, but he isn't there.

Then, Connor hears sounds coming from Hank's bedroom.

Taking care to be cautious, Connor opens the door quietly.

Time _stops_.

There, he witnesses something that he wishes he could wipe from his memory. Hank, thrusting into a male android. Hank, the man he's _in love_ with, having sex with someone else. Connor wants to _scream_.

Spotting him in the doorway, Hank startles, and stops. His wide, blue eyes lock onto Connor's, shock quickly turning into something else. _Desperation_. Connor averts his eyes.

“ _Connor_ …” he says, voice pleading.

Connor turns away, but the image is already burned into his mind. He walks out the front door, into the cold, night air.

No matter how many times Hank calls his name, Connor refuses to look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	4. Chapter 4

Connor walks for what feels like an eternity, physically and mentally trying to distance himself from the scene he'd just witnessed.That's when he realises he can't bring himself to go back to Hank's, at least not for tonight. He feels far too unstable to be anywhere near the older man right now.

Analysing the most time efficient route to Markus, Simon, and North’s place, Connor eventually reaches a nearby bus stop. He dislikes public transportation; he’s too easily reminded of how androids were segregated from humans, even if things are changing.

The bus arrives, and Connor begins his journey.

 

_

 

Ringing the doorbell, Connor doesn't have to wait long before someone answers.

“Connor?”

Connor shuffles his feet awkwardly. “Simon,” he greets, “may I come in?”

“Of course!” Simon says, beckoning Connor inside, “I'll get Markus.”

The blond android disappears into the drawing room as Connor shuts the door behind him.

The house used to belong to Markus’ master, Carl Manfred. He'd taken ill during the android revolution, and after things had died down, Markus returned with North, Simon, and Connor. They were all there for Carl during his final days, and when the old man had passed away, Markus was devastated. Markus had inherited the house, and he'd once said that a part of Carl would always remain here, even if he was physically gone. Even though Connor hadn't known the artist for long, he couldn't help but agree, glancing at the man's paintings as he follows Simon.

However, Connor stops when he sees North, who immediately stands up. She walks over to hug him; even if Connor had felt like the odd one out while he was living with the three androids, Connor knew how much they cared about him.

"What are you doing here?” North asks curiously, pulling away.

“I felt like I had nowhere else to go,” he admits.

Once North ushers Connor to sit on one of the sofas, Simon emerges from the art studio with Markus.

“Sorry to intrude,” Connor says with a dip of his head.

Markus walks over, sitting beside him. “You're always welcome here, Connor.”

North and Simon glance at each other, give Markus an affectionate touch on his shoulder in turn as they pass. Markus smiles at them gratefully before both androids leave the room.

“You seem out of sorts, Connor,” Markus prompts gently.

Looking up, Connor sees the genuine concern in Markus’ eyes. The dam keeping everything in breaks, and he tells the other android about his deteriorating relationship with Hank, the older man's relapse, and… that.

Markus listens intently, nodding every now and then. When Connor finishes, Markus takes a few moments to process what he's heard before replying.

“I see. Have you tried talking to Hank about how you're feeling?”

“No,” Connor says, “I believe that considering his relapse and current behaviour, he wouldn't react positively. I do not wish to cause him any further stress.”

Markus frowns. “Your feelings are important, Connor. Holding them back will only cause you pain.”

Connor smiles sadly. “I know that. But I… care about him beyond anything I've ever felt.”

Markus sighs. “Just remember to take care of yourself, as well. If things ever become too much-”

“I'll be okay,” Connor says firmly.

“You're welcome to stay the night,” Markus offers kindly.

Connor manages a relieved smile. “Thank you, Markus.”

 

_

 

Even since he arrived at the station during the crack of dawn, Hank has been feeling jittery as a result of excessive caffeine consumption and lack of sleep. He was worried. Connor had stormed out of the house without a word, and it was all his fault. Again, Hank feels a familiar twist in his stomach. _Guilt._

At 8am, he hears footsteps heading his way, and Hank looks up so quickly he nearly snaps his damn neck.

It's Connor, who is wearing the same clothes as last night. _Right on time._

Hank stands up. “Connor,” he says as the android settles at the opposite desk, “I… what you saw last night-”

Connor meets Hank's gaze.

“It’s perfectly fine, Lieutenant; I understand that you engage in sexual intercourse,” Connor replies, voice cold.

Hank feels like he's been slapped.

“Well,” Hank says, rubbing his nape awkwardly, “I mean-”

“Is there a point to this, Lieutenant? If you'll excuse me, I have case files to look over,” Connor interrupts, eyes back on his task.

Hank doesn't know how to respond, so he returns to his seat. Then, he hears snickering nearby.

“Fucking Reed,” he curses under his breath.

“Sorry?” Gavin says as he stops by Hank's desk, “I didn't quite catch that.”

“Are you deaf as well as a prick?” Hank shoots back.

Placing a hand over his heart, Gavin lets out a mock gasp.

“You _wound_ me. Getting cranky because that robot of yours won't let you fuck it?”

The older man registers Connor looking up at them curiously in his peripheral vision.

Hank sees red. He gets up, then grabs the front of Gavin’s v-neck roughly, snarling.

“Listen you fucking piece of _shit-”_

Gavin holds his hands up with a nervous chuckle, “ _Woah_ -”

A deep voice cuts through the tension, cold as ice.

“That's enough.”

RK900, Gavin's new partner. Taking advantage of Hank's surprise, the android separates the two men, and steps in front of Gavin.

“I can fucking handle myself, you damn piece of plastic,” Gavin mutters, annoyed.

Seemingly ignoring him, RK900 steps towards Hank. “I suggest you take your frustrations elsewhere, Lieutenant Anderson.”

“Whatever,” Hank growls, returning to his desk. He looks up, and is met with Connor's chocolate brown eyes.

“Are you okay, Lieutenant?”

“I'm just peachy,” Hank grumbles, before looking away.

 

_

 

They barely talk during the drive home.

The minute they return, Connor is about to head to the kitchen to feed Sumo when a hand grabs his wrist.

“Where did you go last night?”

A bubble of irritation swells in Connor's chest. He shakes his wrist from Hank's grip, not bothering to turn around.

“I stayed with Markus, Simon, and North,” Connor replied, walking before coming to a stop in front of one of the kitchen cupboards. He lifts out a bag of dog biscuits. A heavy sigh reaches his auditory receptors.

“You seemed upset.”

Connor pours an average portion of biscuits into Sumo's bowl. “It was nothing,” he says dismissively.

“Connor-” Hank starts.

“I _said_ it was nothing.”

Their eyes lock. Hank looks as lost as Connor feels. For a brief moment, he wants to undo the cold distance he’s been trying to put between them, to pretend that everything is okay. But then, Connor reminds himself of what he saw, causing an intense, emotional pain to sear through him.

He doesn't try to stop Hank from leaving, even though every part of him is screaming not to let the older man go. Instead, Connor steps into the living room, and sits on the couch. His vision blurs, his hands,  _trembling-_

Then, Connor hears a whine. Blinking away unshed tears, he sees Sumo looking at him with droopy, concerned eyes. Scratching the dog behind the ears, Connor smiles weakly.

“If the emotion I'm experiencing is, in fact, love,” Connor murmurs, “it _hurts_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may not update this coming Monday, since I'm going to be spending the next three days with my girlfriend! If that turns out to be the case, please wait for me!


End file.
